


Past Mistakes

by helsinkibaby



Series: Inside the Tornado [13]
Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-26
Updated: 2011-05-26
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post "H-Con 172"  "I'm presuming you learned from your past mistakes, right?" Thirteenth in the Inside the Tornado series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past Mistakes

When I realise that I've just read the same sentence for the fifteenth time in a row, and still not taken it in, I close down the lid of my laptop and rest my head against it, wondering if I can just write off the day and go back home to bed. It's not an unappealing thought, but somehow, when it's barely past eleven in the morning, I doubt it would fly with Oliver Babish.

I straighten up, leaning back in my chair and stretching, hoping that that will do something for me, but to no avail. Even though I know that I have to read this, and write a briefing memo on it, I frankly have no more interest in doing it than I have of jumping off the top of the Washington monument. I'm preoccupied with far more pressing matters than that.

I had a mostly lovely Christmas at home with my family, although I have to admit, I did miss Leo. More than I thought I would as a matter of fact. Phone calls are no substitute for being able to see his face, feel his arms around me, especially when family holidays lead to family drama. I was pretty sure that Daddy had a reason for summoning Nat and me to our childhood home, and wasn't really surprised when he told us that he was seeing someone. When he told us her name however, I was surprised, if for no other reason than I've known Clara Lawrence my whole life, and she's two years older than me, the same age as my sister. When you consider that I was terrified of telling my family that I was dating a man old enough to be my father, I was seeing the irony, and was quite receptive to giving the two of them my blessing, especially when I saw them together, saw how happy she makes him. I don't think I've ever seen my father that happy before.

Natasha on the other hand, was another matter. She was disgusted at the whole affair, and railed first to her husband about it, then to me, then to Daddy. She agreed, grudgingly to go to dinner with us, but she refused to let Clara meet the kids. When we were at dinner, she was as cold as ever I've seen her, speaking in one word sentences, making snippy comments at Clara, shooting venomous looks at me any time I tried to pour oil on troubled waters. It was, all in all, a most uncomfortable evening, but I felt better the next day, when I called Clara up and took her out to lunch. We had a really nice conversation, and I got to hear from her what I'd already heard from Daddy, about how they met and how much they mean to one another. I empathised with a great deal of it, not that I told Clara that, and I told her that as long as she made Daddy happy, I didn't have a problem with the two of them seeing one another. She was relieved to hear that, as was Daddy, but Nat was furious at my support, and we had a huge row about it.

All I could think of was what she'd say if she knew about me and Leo, and the thought made me sick to my stomach. For so long I've tried to tell myself that they might surprise me, be happy for me, but after this, I doubt it, on Nat's behalf at least. Daddy might understand, but it's still not a theory I'm willing to test.

So, you can understand why I might have been looking forward to getting back to Washington and seeing him again. I just wanted to hold him, to have him hold me, shut ourselves off from the world and not have to worry about other people. To have some time to ourselves, just the two of us, and forget about the rest of the world for a while.

Then I got home and found that something's wrong with Leo. Not obviously wrong, there's nothing that I can put my finger on and confront him with. It's more a feeling that he's holding back something from me, that there's something worrying him and he doesn’t want to tell me about it. Lord knows, I've told him often enough that there's nothing that can change my feelings about him. I know all that there is to know about him, I know that he's a good man, nothing like the lying cheating miscreant that I was involved with in the past. I'm used to Leo not telling me about certain aspects of his day - we've always said that we don't have secrets between us, but there are some things that he can't tell me about, national security issues and so forth. But this doesn't feel like something like that, and I'm beginning to worry about him.

Things only got worse after the holidays when we went back to work, culminating in yesterday when he had that late meeting with Cliff. He wouldn't talk about it in the morning before he left; not that I was surprised about that, because he knows that I have a friendship with Cliff and since he found out that Cliff was going to question him, we've talked around that, not facing it head-on. I didn't see much of him throughout the day, and when I got home, when it was 10.45, when I knew the meeting was going on, my stomach was in knots.

I jumped when I heard his key in the door, and my gaze flew to the clock, sure that I hadn't lost track of time that much. Nor had I, and having a pretty good idea of how long it takes to get from Rayburn House to here, I knew that the meeting hadn't gone on for very long. When I looked at him, I knew that it hadn't gone well, and I put down my book, waiting for him to tell me about it.

Which he did. And I've got to admit, I thought that the terms of the deal sounded pretty good. Not that I'm wild about the whole "admitting to lying" thing, because I happen to believe the party line that I've been spouting all these weeks; I know that he didn't lie. Not strictly at any rate. But a censure would end the hearings, would stop this thing hanging over our heads like the sword of Damocles and it would mean that Leo doesn't have to go back on the stand again. It would mean that he won't have to re-live one of the worst experiences of his life in front of God, man and C-SPAN, won't have to live with the press and the op-eds and the hoopla that would inevitably ensue. Plus, selfish as it might sound, it would also avoid the attendant prying in Leo's private life, because we all know what that would likely turn up.

I didn't say any of that to him though. Instead I waited until I was sure that he'd stopped talking, then I put my hand over his. "What did you say?" I asked him.

He looked up at me then, eyes blazing with defiance, jaw set in anger. "That I take a bullet for the President. He doesn't take one for me." I swallowed hard, because I could practically feel the conviction radiating from him, and I couldn't think of a thing to say in response to it. "I got him where he is Ainsley. I won't let him fall on his sword to save me."

I wanted to tell him that if I knew anything at all about President Bartlet, he'd do it in a heartbeat. I wanted to tell him that it was a good deal, that he should think about it some more instead of rejecting it out of hand like that. I wanted to tell him that Cliff is a good man, that he's trying to help him, to help us.

I said none of that.

I just held him.

We didn't talk about it this morning, just went about our morning routine and headed to work, but I've been going through that conversation in my head all day, wondering what else I could have said, could have done, to have it end differently.

I still haven't come up with anything.

I'm distracted from my musings when my cell phone rings, and I pick it up without bothering to check the caller ID. "Ainsley Hayes," I say, hoping that I at least sound efficient.

"Ainse? It's me."

Speak of the devil. Cliff's familiar voice comes down the line, and I take a deep breath, wondering what he wants. I haven't seen Cliff in person since the night that I went to dinner at his place, the night that he found out about Leo and me. We didn't fight over it exactly, but we didn't agree on it either, and we both knew that it could potentially be a huge conflict of interest for him. Neither one of us called the other between that and the hearings, sending messages of greeting through mutual friends, but not contacting one another directly. I would have liked to after the story Leo told me when he got home from the hearing, wanted to hear Cliff's side of what happened, why the recess was called, but I didn't.

"Cliff," I manage to say. "How are you?"

"Fine," he tells me tersely. "Look, I need to talk to you. Can we meet?"

I frown, biting the inside of my cheek. I don't need genius level IQ to know what he wants to talk to me about. "Cliff, I don't know…"

"Ainse, this is me," he interrupts, pausing after those words to let them sink in. They do, because this is a man who has seen me in good times and in bad and has been there f or me unconditionally either way. I truly do believe that he'd never ask me to do anything that he didn't think was right. "You know that. I need to talk to you."

I chew my bottom lip, then decide to follow my heart. "When and where?"

"My place? Lunchtime?"

"I'll be there at two," I tell him, hanging up the phone before I change my mind.

I spend the rest of the morning wondering if I've made the right decision, but when the time comes to leave for Cliff, I know what I'm going to do. I drive to his place, my stomach churning, and it doesn't surprise me that he's already there - Cliff always was punctual to a fault. He grins at me somewhat nervously as he ushers me in, taking my coat, and showing me through to the living room. On the table are two steaming cups of coffee and two sandwiches, and he gestures with a wave of his hand. "Take your pick."

I sit down and look at the food, but my stomach does a slow flip, and I shake my head. "I'm not hungry right now," I tell him, and he draws back in exaggerated surprise, eyes wide, hand pressed to his chest.

"Ainsley, are you feeling ok?"

I give him a look. "Cliff…"

"Ok, ok…" He looks down at the floor, then back up at me again. "I'm going to presume you know all about what happened at the hearing."

I nod. "Leo told me the story."

"Ainse, you gotta know, I didn't know what Gibson was going to bring up," he tells me earnestly. "It's way outside the scope of the hearings, and to put it bluntly, I couldn't care less if McGarry had a drink three years ago and covered it up. I'm not interested in chasing him over that." I know Cliff, and I know when he's telling me the truth, so I nod. That gives him the impetus to continue. "Gibson just wanted to embarrass him. And once upon a time, I would've been ok with that. But I was listening to him, and all I could see was you."

He breaks off, shaking his head with a chuckle, and I've no idea what he means. "Me?" I echo dumbly.

"You. All I could think of was when you told me about the two of you, how you were trying to convince me that McGarry's a good man. Thinking of how happy you seemed before I found out who he was. And that if you felt so much for him, he couldn't be too bad. I'm presuming you learned from your past mistakes, right?" The oblique reference to my ex makes me blush, and he continues. "I told him I'd resign before I let him drag McGarry through the mud, that this is why good people hated us. And I suggested to Bruno that we take a recess for two weeks."

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. "You did that." It's all beginning to make sense to me now. "And you put the deal together to spare Leo having to testify."

He nods. "I thought he'd want to avoid having to answer those questions. Not to mention everything that could go along with it. I didn't expect him to walk last night."

"He wants to protect the President, at any cost," I shrug.

"Ainse, I want you to know that I don't like asking you this…but…"

I know what he's going to say and I'm shaking my head and holding up my hand before he can even get it out. "Cliff, I can't." He just looks at me, and I shake my head again, repeating my words. "I can't Cliff. Leo isn't wild about the idea of you and me being friends; if he found out that I talked to you about this, that you know about the two of us, he'd be furious. Besides, his mind is made up, and he won't change it. This is his call."

"It's not," Cliff protests. "It's the President's."

I sigh, remembering a different conversation we had on this very topic. "The President will follow Leo's lead," I say tiredly, hoping he won't call me on it.

"Will he tell the President?"

I look to the ceiling. "I don't know," I admit.

Cliff sighs, running his hands through his hair. "Is there anyone that I can talk to about this? Anyone who has the ear of the President or Leo?"

I should walk away from him, because I know that if Leo knew I had any hand, act or part in this, he'd be furious with me. The last thing I should do is answer that question.

"Josh Lyman," I find myself saying anyway.

Cliff nods. "I'll try calling his office." We sit in silence for a moment. "I wish things didn't have to be like this," he finally says, and I manage a shaky smile.

"It might get worse before it gets better," I point out, because I can't make myself believe that Josh will have any luck in getting Leo to change his mind. And if that happens, one of my best friends will preside over the public flagellation of the man I love. That uncomfortable thought has me shifting awkwardly in my seat. "I should get back."

He nods, standing with me, resting his hand on the small of my back as we walk to his front door. Once there, he takes my coat and holds it for me as I slip it on, and when I turn to face him again, he hesitates slightly before he wraps his arms around me. I let out a breath that I didn't even realise that I was holding and hug him back, closing my eyes for a second. "I love you Ainse," he whispers against my hair. "No matter what happens… don't forget that."

"Just don't forget I love you too," I whisper fiercely, tears coming to my eyes and blocking my throat, but I smile at him when I step away and exit his apartment, heading back to the White House.

Once there, I go through the motions of continuing to read the memo that I was working on, valiantly trying to make coherent notes in order to fully understand and condense it, not to mention translating it into layman's terms. I know that it's taking me twice as long to do as it normally would, and normally that would concern me, but I have more pressing issues at hand today. When I've finished making the notes, I decide that it's time to reward myself with a break, and while I'm still not especially hungry, an event that worries me to no end, there might just be something in the Mess that would tempt me.

Sure enough, I settle on a cup of coffee and a chocolate chip muffin, and I'm just about to go back to my office when I hear a voice calling me. I look over to see Donna and Margaret sitting at a table in the far corner, Donna beckoning me over. I smile at her and head in that direction, smiling at Margaret as I sit down. I don't know Leo's secretary very well; to be honest, I don't think that she quite trusts me yet, but I know that Leo values her highly, even if she is a little eccentric. She smiles up at me tightly, but Donna's smile is warm. "I haven't seen you since Christmas," she says. "How were your holidays?"

I shrug, peeling the casing from my muffin carefully. "The usual family holidays," I say, not really wanting to get into the whole "father dating a woman young enough to be his daughter and my sister can't handle it" thing. "It was nice to get home though, see everyone again," I add, when Donna frowns at my less than enthusiastic response.

"Yeah, you're right," Donna replies. "Although I don’t know how Josh manages it, but there always seems to be more mess on his desk when he gets back than there was before he left."

"The province of bosses everywhere," Margaret mutters, and from the tone of her voice, I can just imagine the kind of day that she's been having.

Donna looks over at Margaret, grinning, then back to me. "You just walked in on us having a bitch about our bosses," she explains. "Josh has been coming up with ways to talk to Amy Gardner all day. He's driving me nuts."

I raise an eyebrow, surprised that she's taking the news of Josh dating someone else so well. I've often thought - well, along with many other people in the West Wing - that Josh and Donna have this strange mutual desire and flirtation thing going on, not that anything can come of it of course. Leo's told me how weird Josh can get when Donna dates someone; he warned me about it when I set Donna up with Cliff. She seems to be taking this much better.

"At least you don't have Amy Gardner sitting in his office," Margaret mutters darkly, an angry frown on her face. "There are certain rules to be followed, regarding appointments and who gets in and who doesn't, but does she think they apply to her? No."

There's a knowing smirk on Donna's face, so she's obviously heard this all before. I on the other hand am absolutely clueless. "Who are you talking about?" I ask.

Margaret gets a vaguely guilty look on her face and looks to Donna as if for guidance. Donna frowns, then blinks as understanding hits, and she looks from me to Margaret rapidly. "It's ok Margaret. Ainsley won't say anything."

"I really won't," I assure her, holding up my hands.

She purses her lips, then makes her decision, leaning closer across the table. "Jordan Kendall." The tone of her voice and the look on her face combine to make me think she's only short of getting out a stake and some holy water. "I got there this morning and she was already there, camped out on his couch like it was her sovereign right. Then he has the cheek to blame me when he comes in and finds her there." I take a sip of my coffee at this piece of information, sure that it must have something to do with trying to convince Leo to take Cliff's deal, but since I'm not supposed to know about that, I'm not quite sure how to get Margaret to expand on what she knows. Fortunately, this is Margaret I'm dealing with, and she's more than willing to continue on her own. "I mean, I know that things aren't strictly attorney-client between the two of them, but she should still be able to follow the rules. Mrs McGarry always did."

The coffee takes on a distinctly bitter flavour as it settles in my stomach, and I feel as if my head is spinning around. I'm totally unable to form a sentence, but that's not a problem Donna has. Leaning towards Margaret, eyes sparkling with the light of gossip, she lowers her voice. "You mean Leo and Jordan are…"

She lets her voice trail off invitingly, and Margaret looks from left to right before leaning over even closer to us, her own voice just as low. "It's not for me to say…" she begins, and Donna looks as if she's going to throttle her unless she spills, and spills now. My hand is gripping the cup tightly, and I’m half-afraid that it's going to shatter in my grasp. "But you should have seen the way he was hitting on her at the hearing. Asking her if she wanted breakfast, lunch, dinner…" She pauses, looking from me to Donna. "This goes no further," she stipulates, and Donna nods.

"Not a word," she promises.

"Of course," I utter dully, hoping that they don't hear anything amiss in my voice.

"She told him that she'd have dinner with him that night, but then he asked her if they could do it on Christmas Eve instead. And not that I know how things went after that, but she seemed pretty comfortable making herself at home this morning."

Donna sighs. "Dinner on Christmas Eve…that's so romantic."

Margaret snorts. "I don't think that man has a romantic bone in his body," she retorts. "And from the shouting that he was doing, I think they may just have had their first lovers' quarrel."

"That's too bad," is Donna's verdict, as she turns her cup around on the saucer. "Leo needs a nice woman in his life."

Not only is my head still spinning, but now my stomach has decided to join in the act, and I really do feel as if I'm about to throw up. I want to tell them both that Leo has a nice woman in his life, and that it's not Jordan Kendall, but the words won't go past the lump that's in my throat.

Because there's too much sense being made right now. I know that Leo went to dinner with Jordan on Christmas Eve; he told me. He also told me that it was a business dinner; or else I just assumed that it was as such. I remember thinking how distracted he sounded, thinking that he was holding something back from me, and thinking that it was probably something to do with the hearings, something that Jordan had said to him. That it was the worry over what Gibson knew about him, how he might be forced to relive every embarrassing moment on the stand.

He's been distant ever since I got back too; and I've kept on having that feeling, that there was something that he wasn't telling me.

I think I might just have found out what it was.

Something happened between Leo and Jordan Kendall on Christmas Eve.

I don't believe it. I don't want to believe it. But the fact of the matter is, there's no earthly reason why Margaret would lie to me, or why she'd make something like this up.

Against that reasonable knowledge is the constant thought that my Leo wouldn't do this to me. However, as I recall, I used to think that about Simon too, and we all know how wrong I was about that. Cliff's words from earlier on ring in my ears - I'm presuming you learned from your past mistakes, right?

I thought that I had.

Now I'm not so sure.


End file.
